The Evolution of Harley Quinn
by footshooter
Summary: Harleen has it bad. Her boss got sectioned, she was forced to take his case, and now he's trying to use her for personal gain. And all the while the fight between the so-called-Joker and the Bat-man is making it impossible for her to so much as get home and sleep in her bed. But she can take it. It's her job. She's impossible to manipulate. T for swearing & a tad bit violence.


**a/n:** ** _I was going to break this up into chapters but couldn't be bothered when it came down to it. It's far easier to post as one. Probably not easier to read though. Haha._**

 ** _-fs_**

* * *

With a mixture of antipsychotics and lorazepam, Dr Crane had started to feel less like the walls were bleeding crows and more like he could think without ending up under a table for an hour and a half shaking until someone came to stab him with a needle and extract him.

He knew what he was taking, he counted the tablets and identified them before he did. He couldn't be sure they weren't poisoning him. And that's less to do with the illness and more to do with his old co-workers feelings towards him. They took great joy in stabbing him with needles; he often didn't even have to raise his voice. He'd get to his feet and then wake up in bed two days later.

Scarecrow can fight the sedatives though; Jonathan knows he'll always protect him.

It was maybe three months in before Jonathan _willingly_ went to the showers. All of his available veins were covered in scabs and bruises from the staff taking blood to "develop a cure" for his Toxin and to keep him under sedation when Scarecrow woke him back up after an hour and he had to watch through something like a film as he tried to fight his way to the people who _really_ didn't like Jonathan.

It was late, and he was still suffering from some of the drowsiness and tremors from the medication. It was hard work making his way anywhere, and he was a target, thanks to the Toxin, so he waited until it was dark to pull himself along the corridors to the bathroom.

He would complain about the amount of medication he was on, but things were still rushing from the walls dead ahead, so he didn't dare. He suggested alternatives to his psychiatrist, and, to her credit, she did act upon them. He thinks he lectured or supervised her at some point, but he can't remember much about his old life. Apparently that was PTSD. Just another label on top of his severe anxiety, bipolar I and paranoid schizoaffective tendencies.

Jonathan didn't agree with the labels, neither did Dr Quinzel, but she was too new and him too ill to get the diagnosis changed.

He didn't know what was running ahead of him in the corridors, laughing, but he could hear their footsteps and whatever it was was large and taunting him. He felt Scarecrow at his back, a phantom touch on his shoulder, and the hairs on his neck settled ever so slightly.

 _It won't hurt you, I'm here._

"I know. I know. The doors just here, anyway."

The door handle was leaking, ever so slightly, something that looked like blood.

 _Shh_.

Jonathan closed his eyes and touched it. It felt cool, but not sticky or wet.

"It's not real."

He twisted the door handle, and went inside. The lights were still on, but flickering and buzzing. The buzzing seemed extraordinarily loud to Jonathan's ears, but that was no different to usual as his brain scanned for threats that were often present, but not really there.

Jonathan gulped, and stepped forwards, bare feet on cold, stone floors, through the puddles left from earlier in the day and walked through to gather dirt and lose any warmth they may have had. His footsteps echoed loudly, and he was aware of something over his shoulder that he was ignoring. He watched in his peripheries as Scarecrow left his side and moved over to the shadow, and it dispersed, bubbling back into the walls.

He could never really _see_ Scarecrow, just an outline, a figure, but he always knew he was there. He had to be there, or Jonathan wouldn't be able to hold on to any more of his sanity.

The shower cubicles were in a row, their rusted piping sticking out of the ceiling at odd angles and dripping down onto the floor. Jonathan vaguely recalled how the pipes would freeze in the deepest winter when Gotham would be white outside. He couldn't remember how he used to fix that problem, but he must have had a way. He wondered who coordinated it now, but it wasn't relevant. He stopped staring into the ceiling, because the ceiling started to stare back.

"The ceiling is looking at me," Jonathan muttered, before putting his hand in front of his mouth. He didn't mean to say it out loud.

 _Let it look_.

"I don't want the ceiling to watch me showering."

Jonathan shook his head and sighed, shuffling over to the shower as fast as he could.

"No wonder I'm sectioned."

 _It's not_ your _fault. It's the Bat's._

Jonathan cringed.

"Don't mention the bats. The crows are bad enough. Are the crows what's in the ceiling?"

 _No_.

"Okay."

Jonathan turned on the tap and the whole bathroom shook and groaned to life. He staggered back, eyes widening, and his back hit Scarecrow.

 _Hey, it's okay._

"No it fucking isn't, Scarecrow! This whole building is alive!"

 _It's just the pipes, it always happens._

Jonathan had backed away, side-stepping Scarecrow, who remained in his peripheries, hand on his arm.

"I can't. I can't. I can't."

 _Okay, let's just sit. We'll sit. You don't need to shower anyway. We'll sit and then we'll leave._

Steam was filling the room, and Jonathan hunched over, head in his hands on his knees and shook. Scarecrow sat beside him, arm around his shoulder, and waited.

* * *

Eventually, the door opened, and someone ran in.

"Jonathan?"

The voice called, and Jonathan flinched, knocking something over. The footsteps hurried over to him, crouched on the floor, and knelt in front of him.

"Oh, thank God. Hey, Johnny? It's Dr Quinzel. You know me right?"

Jonathan nodded.

"Are you okay? We were so worried."

" _We?"_ Scarecrow spat out before Jonathan could bite his tongue as she pressed buttons on her pager that related to his alert.

"Well _I_ was. What are you doing in here this late at night?"  
"I wanted to wash my hair."

Harleen was taken aback for a second, Jonathan not seeming to care about his appearance before then.

"Oh. Oh! Well that's good, isn't it? Do you want to try again?"

Jonathan looked up from his knees.

"I don't know. The water is probably cold."  
"How long have you been sitting here?"  
"I don't know."  
"Did you black out?"  
"I don't think so."

Harley stood up.

"Okay, well, there's still steam so it maybe wasn't that long. I'll check the water."

She walked off, and Scarecrow gathered back in around Jonathan.

 _Be careful with her. She's just trying to extract information._

"She's okay. She's trying to help."

"What was that, Johnny?" Harleen asked from over the room.

" _It's Jonathan!_ Shh."

Jonathan could see her looking at him curiously.

"Are you okay, Jonathan?"  
" _Do I look-_ Yes."  
"Just you seem a little spaced."  
"I just… The pipes were creaking. I thought the room was closing in or going to fall on me or something. I dunno."

 _Don't tell her that!_

"We need to stop talking together," Jonathan muttered, under his breath.

 _You need to stop talking to me out loud, she's looking at you weird._

"I think the water's okayish. You could probably still shower."

Jonathan looked warily at the pipes, which were snaking, and the eyes peering at him from the ceiling.

"I can stay, if you like."  
" _No._ Yes."  
"Which one is it?"  
"I… Just over here. By the door. Maybe."

Jonathan had walked over to her, and she nodded.

 _IDIOT._

"I won't look, I promise."

Harleen watched Jonathan's eyes dart to the left, and he flinched as she said it, but not at her. She frowned as she pulled up a chair by the door.

Jonathan stepped into the cubicle and pulled the door shut behind him, stripping off.

 _She'll work it out. She'll know. She'll write it down and try to get rid of me and then you won't be protected. Stop thinking she cares, she doesn't care. No one cares like I do._

"I know. I know. But if the antipsychotics haven't made you leave yet they won't, will they?"

 _What if they cure you? What if they use the antidote?_

"If they were going to, they would have done by now. This is us now. This is our life."

Harleen coughed from the corner.

"Jonathan?"  
"Yes?"  
"Is there anyone in here with us?"

Scarecrow tutted, and Jonathan watched his arms come up in the periphry of his vision.

"I'm sorry."  
"Like, is there anyone else? Other than you and me."  
"There's… eyes in the ceiling. And… the figures. People are running through the walls outside trying to get in."  
"Okay, but that isn't what I mean."  
" _So what_ do _you mean? Ghosts?"  
_ "It's just that then, your voice changed? And you often look away when people are talking to you. As if someone is over your shoulder?"

Jonathan didn't say anything, picking up the shampoo and rubbing it into his hair.

"It's a good sign that you want to shower, don't you think?"  
"Yes."  
"Do you feel any better?"  
"A bit. I… The hallucinations are going."  
"They're not gone?"  
"No."  
"And you have similar triggers?"  
"Noises. Birds. Bats. People creeping up on me."  
"Are you still scared?"  
"Not all of the time. But I think that's the drugs. I still am."  
"And when you talk to yourself-"  
"I'm not talking to myself. _Jonathan._ What? Oh. I didn't mean… I am… talking to myself."  
"You can tell me, Johnny, c'mon. I can help."  
"I. He can't go. He's always been there."  
"Scarecrow?"  
"He protects me. From the things."  
"Okay. And the medication?"  
"He doesn't go away. I don't want him too."  
"When did he start being able to take over."

There was a barking laugh from inside the shower.

" _When we were young, I could take over. When we were old, I couldn't. Jonathan was stronger. Now, after the Bat, he's weak again and I can. As soon as he started to test on himself, I could to varying degrees. You can't get rid of me."  
_ "If you aren't hurting him, I might not need to."  
" _I would_ never _hurt him."_

Harleen sighed. Scarecrow heard her shift in her chair, the legs scraping against the floor.

"I have a thing, from the past. It's been buried, something that never came to light. May I ask you about it?"  
" _Can I stop you?"  
_ "Jonathan's grandmothers death?"  
" _Yes?"  
_ "Was that you?"  
" _Don't talk about her to him. She's vile."  
_ "Jonathan's mother's first baby scan. She was having twins."  
" _She still did."  
_ "Were they abusive to you?"  
" _To him. I did what I had to."  
_ "Okay."

Scarecrow paused.

" _Is that it?"  
_ "We can make smalltalk if you'd like?"  
" _Why aren't you pushing the subject?"  
_ "Do you want me to?"  
" _No."  
_ "Then I won't."

Scarecrow paused, and Jonathan came back to an air of confusion and soap in his eyes.

"What did you do to her?"  
"Nothing, Jonathan. We just talked."  
"Oh."

There was silence for a minute, then;

"Okay, so I know how this must seem. I don't want to kill people. He's not telling me to hurt myself or-"  
"Jonathan, I don't think anything of the sort. Although if you're still hallucinating, I think we need to do something else with your meds. We can do a heart rate and blood pressure test again tomorrow, see how you're coping. I asked about the cure to the Toxin, but no one seemed to be able to answer me. I mean, we gave it to practically everyone in the city. Someone must have a dose."  
"Do you really think Batman is going to give _me_ a dose?"

Harleen Quinzel sighed.

"If he was any kind of decent person he would. If he could see how much you're suffering."  
"The side effects are getting easier to handle."  
"Yes, but it's not making anything else go away. No one can give me _any_ idea of what to do. The only person's suggestions I'm working off are yours because no one else will help. They just shrug and say they don't know."  
"I've been sedated three times this week."  
"I know, I saw on the cards. You were over the maximum dose with half of the second. I can't find records of what you did."  
"I walked out when they were trying to take more bloods."  
"You're allowed to refuse!"

Jonathan looked at his arms.

"Seemingly not."  
"I've reported it but-"  
"Don't worry about me. We can take it."  
"You're _my_ patient. They should consult me."

Jonathan turned off the shower, water long run cold and shuddering, wrapped himself in a towel. He suddenly felt very tired.

 _She's in too deep here, Johnny. We could use this.  
_ Well then you're going to have to do it. I can't. I have social withdrawal and no people skills, remember?  
 _I'm not touching her. I can't. All you have to do is go out there without a shirt._

"Have you seen our chest recently?"

Scarecrow was violently shaking his head.

"Huh?" Harley asked.

"Just… Don't worry. I'll think. I had an idea for a repeated delivery system since the depot's don't work. But I don't think I'd be able to… Do it."  
"We can try, if it looks like my idea."

 _Go on_.

"Thanks Harleen. I really appreciate it."

Jonathan toweled himself off and put his clothes back on.

 _Is that_ really _all you've got?  
_ "Shut up."  
"I didn't… Oh."

Jonathan left the cubicle into the flickering lights where the eyes in the ceiling followed him.

"Are you okay?" Harleen asked.

Jonathan nodded.

"We'll think tomorrow, okay? You should sleep."  
"Sleep is important."

Harleen walked Jonathan back through the corridors, Scarecrow on his other shoulder the whole time, hand clutching. She left him outside his bedroom, going into the secure wards office and locking the door behind her.

"What took you so long?" the nurse on duty barked.

"Look, he was having a panic attack in the bathroom. He asked me to wait. I have a lot of notes to type up. He opens up better outside of therapy."

The nurse rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV.

"They always manipulate the young females."  
"He isn't manipulating me. And if he _was_ , I would know."  
"He's gonna try."  
"I'll notice. It's not like anyone else gets anywhere with him, is it?"  
"I'm just saying, he's not an unattractive guy."  
"Ugh."

Harleen turned to her laptop and flipped the screen up, rolling her eyes.

"Do me a favour and get me a coffee. It's been a long night."

* * *

The next day Jonathan showed up to therapy with an escort, and Dr Quinzel was already waiting, typing furiously on a laptop. Jonathan had a black eye, and grimaced when the orderly checking his cuffs brushed his shoulder against it. He flinched back and glared, and Harleen couldn't help but notice the completely different look to his eyes when he did.

"What happened?"  
"Don't you already know?"

Harleen frowned.

"I'll level with you, Dr Crane. I'm having a bad day and I'm not quite in the mood for games. You know I have to ask rather than presume. I'd like your take."  
"My take is unlikely to be received like the notes in your computer."  
"I'd still like to know."

Jonathan sighed and sat back, cuffs clinking against his legs as he did. He scowled at them as he crossed his legs and flicked his hair out of his face.

"I was assaulted in the corridor by a rather large man who I'd upset in my past."  
"What did he do?"  
"He punched me in the face."  
"What did _you_ do?"  
"Well I didn't exactly punch him back."  
"Apparently he's in seclusion after a tranquilisation because his anxieties have returned."  
"I just spoke to him."  
"What did you say?"

Jonathan smiled, and his eyes hardened.

" _Shouldn't_ my _therapy sessions be about me?_ "

Harleen scowled at him and scribbled something down on paper.

"What are you writing?"  
"Your Scarecrow delusions."  
"They aren't delusions. But okay."  
"I think they are."  
"He's real."  
"I'm sure he is to you, but I can't see him."  
"You won't be able to."  
"How do you know he's real?"

Jonathan smirked, and shrugged.

"What do you know that we don't?"  
"Maybe you'll never know. By the way, Dr Quinzel. If you come into a consultation with a negative attitude, chances are your patient will have a negative attitude throughout. We bounce. We can't help it."  
"Dr Crane, I know that already."  
"Then tell me what's so wrong in your life that you're struggling so hard to keep on your professional face."  
"Well, there's some shit going on outside. I got caught up in a traffic jam because a guy got-"

She stopped abruptly, and scowled.

"That isn't _fair_ , Jonathan."  
"What did I do?"  
"You know exactly what you did, that's why you're smiling."

His smile widened, and he leant forwards, hair flopping into his face. He blew upwards, it flicking aside, and fixed his bright blue eyes on her face.

"Oh, tell me what's happening outside. _Please_."

He even went so far as to flutter his eyelashes.

"I know you're trying to manipulate me, Jonathan. I can see that much."

Jonathan laughed.

"I'm not a manipulative person. You're the one person willing to help me. It makes sense to keep you onside."  
"You're not a very good liar."  
"I know. That's why I'm not lying."  
"Jonathan, you're exhausting me."  
"You've told me half, tell me the rest."

Harleen sighed and slammed her pen down.

"Fine. There's a weird guy dressed as a clown going on a rampage around the city. He's targeting people high up in the power tree and the Batman keeps showing up to throw him out of buildings. And I seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Firstly, I had to show up at a fundraiser thing I didn't want to go to where he showed up and threw a lady out of a window, which I personally blame you for, by the way, because you always attended those kinda things."  
"I'm very sorry I lost my job. I'm willing to take it back."  
"Ha-ha, as if that's ever gonna happen. Anyway, last night I got stuck in traffic for _hours_ because he'd hung a dead guy from his feet out a window."  
"Ah well, you'll have a new favourite patient soon enough."  
"I'm not taking him."  
"Did you want to take me?"

Harleen paused.

"I shouldn't even be talking about this with you."  
"I won't tell if you don't. I also won't be offended that you didn't want the _challenge_."  
"Yeah, you should have seen yourself when you came in. You wouldn't have wanted you either."  
"Actually, I really like fear, so I'd have been overjoyed."  
"Well, look how that worked out for you."  
"I dealt with a number of patients like me. But luckily for them they've been allowed the medicine that will make them better while I'm left to rot in this hellhole."

Harleen's face softened a bit.

"Jonathan, you know I'm trying to get you the medication, right? It's like being up against a brick wall at the moment. I'm claiming patient confidentiality stops me from needing to use the named patient system but they're digging in their heels."  
"Yes, well, I'll continue to see ghosts in the walls then."  
"You should have presented straight away."  
"Are you kidding? When Scarecrow wasn't in charge, which was 95% of the time I was panicking in a corner not being able to think. He only reverted back when we were back here and it stopped being useful."

There was silence for a couple of seconds, and Jonathan twitched slightly.

" _No fair Jonathan, I took most of the hit. You know what it's like trying to conduct normal business when your heart rate is 130bpm and someone's screaming inside your head?_ I could have worked out an antidote! _While you were crying? Okay."_

Dr Quinzel sighed.

"Okay, guys. Break it up."

Jonathan sat back again, scowling.

"I want a haircut."  
"Okay."  
"And to shave."  
"Okay. Can we talk about your medication?"  
"What about it?"  
"Well how do you feel about it?"  
"Side effects are wearing off. There's still a guy behind me waiting to pounce on me."

Harleen looked behind him.

"Okay, I can't see that guy."  
"Well you wouldn't be able to, would you? It's a hallucination."  
"But Scarecrow isn't?"  
"No."  
"Why do you think that?"  
"He's always been there, he's unthreatening-"  
"Yet do you think he caused you to do all of this?"  
"What start a supervillain revolution in Gotham?"  
"No, I mean the Fear Toxin. And that's nothing to be proud of, Jonathan."  
" _It is something to be proud of. And I did, but it was all Johnny's idea. He just didn't have the balls._ Hey, seriously. If you don't need therapy get out of my session. I want a haircut."  
"Okay, can you please stop fighting with yourself for five minutes?"

The door opened as Harleen said that, fingers on the bridge of her nose, and one of the front desk receptionists was stood outside the room with someone behind her in the shadows. Jonathan shut his mouth against the retort that she could tell was bursting out, simply to prevent himself from being the source of a new gossip, and instead, sat back, glowering.

"Ah, Dr Quinzel. I have someone here to see you?"

The receptionist wasn't used to dealing with patients, especially not ones who used to be her rude boss. She glanced at Jonathan, who smirked at her, and she twitched backwards. Jonathan was pleased to know _all_ of his Fear Toxin wasn't eliminated by the antidote, and ignored the demon dancing behind her, reaching for her hair.

Harleen was talking.

"-and he won't come back so I'm not leaving this room. He'll have to wait."  
"But he's here now. He insisted on following me."  
"Has he got a visitors pass?"  
"Well, no but-"  
"Well then you've broken procedure! And you've brought him to somewhere where he could have, and possibly did, hear confidential information!"  
"Plus she's got a demon trying to grab her hair."

Harleen glared at Jonathan, the receptionist jumped and spun round. The man behind her put his hand on her back and muttered something.

"Jonathan, really?"  
"What?"

The man behind her walked forwards so he was illuminated slightly and became recognisable as Bruce Wayne. Harleen's face darkened even more.

"Mr Wayne, I must insist."  
"It will take five minutes, that's all. It's about some product requests?"  
"I can't and won't leave my patient."  
"I'm not waiting."

Bruce looked at Crane, almost managing to keep the distaste off his face.

"It will take five minutes, and then you can continue Dr Crane."  
"Nope."  
"I still have a lot to discuss with Dr Crane. You're going to have to come back."

 _Does he not remind you of someone?_

Jonathan glanced away from Harleen, who he'd been staring at, to stare at Bruce Wayne who flinched slightly, turning his face away so he could look at Harleen again.

"I do have a busy schedule Dr Quinzel."  
"Believe me, so do I."

 _Look at that jaw…_

"I'm not sure I could get back until, oh, next month? Month after? And I was thinking that if the product you need is that urgent then-"  
"Coffee. I want coffee too."  
"Jonathan, you're not five years old here. It is urgent, Mr Wayne. We need it as soon as possible."  
"But we've had a named patient system so far, why not now?"  
"I've never filled in one of those forms, I would have always disagreed. Patient confidentiality is very important to us, especially as we're in a criminal setting."  
"But is it a new patient? Have you just discovered someone new or have they relapsed?"  
"It's a little bit of both, really. They never were inoculated. They missed it due to hiding from the visions. Did you encounter the visions yourself, Mr Wayne?"  
"Uh, yes."  
"Well then you'll know how frightening it was. We want some in stock just in case. No one should have to live with that."

 _Very familiar jawline… Can you picture him with his eyes covered?_

Jonathan did see a familiarity, something which was gnawing in his gut, but he couldn't quite get to the end of the road. That wasn't abnormal for him, he struggled to concentrate a lot these days, but he felt like it was important.

And then a rush of wind through the corridors blew the door shut behind Bruce Wayne, and as Jonathan got a full view of his face everything around him went dark. His eyes turned red, points appeared from his skull, and bats started flying towards him from the cloud around his body, all rushing for Jonathan with their claws outstretched to scratch at his face.

Jonathan pushed his chair back and attempted to stand up, but panicked when he couldn't.

"Nonononono."

"Jonathan?" Harleen said.

 _Jonathan, calm down._

"CAN'T YOU SEE IT? HOW ARE YOU SO CALM?"

 _Because that's what I am for you. Calm._

Harleen rushed forwards, putting her arm on Jonathan's shoulder and helping him to hunch over on himself.

"Okay, shh. Come on Jonathan. It's okay. You remember how to breathe? Jonathan? Can you hear me? Oh, Christ."

Harleen reached for her briefcase as Bruce Wayne stared, wide eyed. Jonathan was shaking, curled into as small a ball as the restraints would allow. He was rocking back, muttering to himself, clutching at his hair.

"I don't have any lorazepam on me. Fucking hell. Jonathan? Can you hear me?"

 _Jonathan, c'mon. Your nice doctor is speaking to you._

"I want you to speak to me. Where are you?"

 _I'm right here. Left shoulder. Can you feel me now?_

"No!"

"Jonathan, breathe. In and out, remember? I'm going to have to get you an injection and you were doing so well. Come on."

Harleen completely forgot that it wasn't just her and Jonathan in the room, and was clutching at straws.

"Jonathan? Scarecrow? Can you hear me? Can you stop this?"  
"Nonono the bats are flying, they're scratching me, I can't get away. I can't, I'm- _JONATHAN STOP!"_

Jonathan's body stopped shaking, and his shoulders dropped. Harleen sat back slightly, just out of reach.

"Jonathan, are you okay?"  
" _Jonathan isn't here."  
_ "Is he okay?"

Scarecrow looked up, smirking, showing all of his teeth as he did. Harleen could see the difference more than ever, and recoiled slightly.

" _He's panicking. He will be. Do you have pills?"  
_ "I think so."  
" _Give me one."_

Harleen stood up and went to her bag, pulling out a bottle and checking the label. She shook one out, then shook her head and shook out two more, and passed them to Scarecrow.

"Please remind him this is why he can't have coffee."

Harleen noticed Bruce again, and swore under her breath as Scarecrow necked the tablets and turned to stare at Wayne. Bats were still flying around his head Scarecrow was still smiling.

"This is why we ask visitors to make appointments, Mr Wayne. Even tiny disruptions can shatter the mental states of some of our patients. And Dr Crane was actually doing very well."  
"He's doing well?"  
"Not right now. Do you know what set that off?"  
" _Oh, I know._ "  
"Will you tell me?"

Scarecrow laughed, still staring at Bruce Wayne.

"Do I have to get someone to come with a needle?"  
" _No. I'll behave."  
_ "You don't often behave in therapy."  
" _I didn't say I'd speak._ "  
"Then you might as well go back. Those tablets will kick in soon enough. I'll speak about the medication changes later, see if we can get to the bottom of it."  
" _I know why._ "

He was still staring at Bruce, and Bruce was getting a sense of dread settling in his stomach that had nothing to do with Jonathan Crane's seemingly split personality and violent panic attack. Harleen sighed.

" _Is there a_ bat _in here, or am I hallucinating now too?"_

Scarecrow laughed as Bruce blanched, and kept laughing through Harleen's questions until she caved and opened the door to the very shocked looking receptionist.

"Julie, can you go get someone to bring me some injectable haloperidol? This is getting us nowhere."  
"What-?"  
"Never mind, just go and get it for me. Mr Wayne, I need you to sign a confidentiality statement that will guarantee to us you aren't going to go outside and tell the city about this. Hopefully you have a better understanding now of why we need that drug."

Bruce signed the sheet outside of the room as Scarecrow laughed inside the room. He promised he wouldn't speak of it.

"Our records were destroyed when the Joker got into the party. I don't know if it was connected."  
"Can you make more?"  
"I don't know. If we did, we'd have to start from scratch and I think all of the Toxin has been destroyed too. Obviously, we can't get him to give us more."  
"He probably would. But I'd hate to see what he'd do with it. Please just try. No one deserves that."  
"I'll speak to Lucius. But I can't promise anything. I thought he'd already been done."  
"The staff here aren't exactly forgiving. We're working on it, but it's slow going."

Bruce nodded, and Harleen collared the man walking into the room with the syringe.

"Is that the size of needles you're using on him? No wonder he's bruised! Give it to me."

Harleen ripped the needle from the orderlies hands, dug out a smaller one, and transferred the drug over. The orderly wasn't impressed, and Harley noticed.

"Get out, I'll do it myself."

The orderly shrugged and walked away.

"See?" She said to Bruce, as she took back the piece of paper and pushed the door open with her back. "Think about it, Mr Wayne. You're not the only person he's hurt, and he's suffered enough."

She went into the room, and the receptionist gestured back down the corridor. Bruce shrugged.

Before the door closed, Harleen heard him say, "Be careful, Dr Quinzel. You're in a little deep."

She rolled her eyes as she walked over to Scarecrow.

"Arm."

He put it out for her.

"Why does everyone think I'm such a kid?" She asked him. "I _know_ you're manipulating me."  
" _Trying and failing, so it seems."  
_ "Hmm."

She jabbed the needle in with as little force as she could get away with, and he put it back to his side when she took the needle out and sat back down.

"That'll make the bats go away."  
" _The Bat had already left, Dr Quinzel."_

She frowned, and scribbled something down on her notepad.

* * *

Harley hadn't left, just swapped her shirt and hoped the creases from sleeping on the couch would brush out if she sat for a while. She had a pot of coffee in front of her and the television on. Jim Gordon had been shot dead the day before, and she knew she wouldn't get home so simply hadn't bothered. The Joker was demanding to know who Batman was by noon, and it was 11:49. Harvey Dent was holding a press conference. The city was in complete uproar over the Batman, who she also felt like personally punching for (one) stopping her getting home _all of the time_ and (two) causing her patients to repeatedly lose the plot when they were stable.

Someone knocked on the door and she glanced at the huge pile of paperwork to the left of her desk and sighed.

"Come in."

An orderly walked in, one of the nicer ones.

"Hey Harley. Uh, Johnny Crane wants to see you."  
"Does he?"  
"Yeah, he's done that snap thing he does after the meds when he wakes up one morning fresh as a daisy. He says it's urgent."  
"He probably wants to snark at me for an hour for injecting him. Just bring him up, there's nothing in here he can hurt anyone with."  
"You sure? We can set up the therapy room?"  
"I don't want to risk it yet, I still don't know what sparked him off last time. Anyway, Harvey Dent's about to say who Batman is."  
"Oh yeah? Pssh, they shouldn't give in to these people. He'll end up here next."  
"Yeah, for all Crane's done at least he didn't kill anyone."  
"Well, not personally. He did set fire to whoever Batman is."  
"Oh, he did? I've not got that in the notes."  
"He's always going on about it. It's up there in his list of greatest achievements alongside turning Gotham into Halloween for a night and stealing a police horse."

Harleen laughed.

"Oh, he's not all bad."  
"He's never punched me in the face so he's above 96% of the patients."  
"But he did poison you."  
"Actually, I was on holiday when that happened."  
"Lucky you. My walls were crawling with the aliens from _Alien_ and my dustbin was trying to eat me."  
"A lot like LSD then?"  
"I wouldn't know, I've never tried it."  
"Ah, people pay for that feeling. I gave him some of my coffee last night. Maybe that's why he's bouncing off the walls this morning."  
"Oh, it'll do him no harm. He couldn't _be_ any more paranoid."  
"We sat up discussing personality disorders until 5am. Hey, he's a good teacher."  
"I wouldn't believe everything he says. Were you talking to him or Scarecrow?"  
"Him I think. I've not learned the subtle differences yet."  
"I'm starting to work it out. They usually make it perfectly clear with me though. I think they want to fuck with you lot."  
"It's probably all the fun he gets."  
"That's true."  
"I'll bring him up. I'll just wait in the corridor or he'll scowl at me the whole time. There's a TV out there anyway."  
"Yeah, don't wanna miss the big reveal."

The orderly left and returned five minutes later with Jonathan, who tried to walk into the room ahead of him.

"Ah-ah. Cuffs."  
"Oh come on."  
"Nope. Give me your hands."

Jonathan reluctantly put out his arms.

"You know it's procedure."  
"You should, it's your procedure."  
"It shouldn't apply to me. I'm not murderous."  
"Hey, you could be."  
"Have I ever tried?"  
"No, but still. You're a dangerous human. I'll be outside."

The orderly closed the door and they could hear him shuffling a chair in front of the TV as Jonathan pulled up a seat.

"Coffee?" Harleen asked, and Jonathan looked surprised.  
"Uh, yeah."

Harley laughed, and pulled out a cup.

"Don't sound so surprised. I know James gave you coffee last night."  
"I feel like you're covertly administering something."

She showed him the cup, and poured herself one from the same pot.

"Nope, I'd just tell you. You are my consultant after all."  
"What a world we live in."  
"Milk?"  
"No thanks."  
"So you were discussing personality disorders with James til 5am? How much of it did you lie about?"  
"Nothing, actually. We were discussing the Joker."  
"Oh, really? I thought it was policy for staff not to talk about current events?"

Jonathan shrugged.

"Am I not stable enough?"  
"Hmm."  
"I was triggered."  
"By what?"  
"Bruce Wayne reminded me of the time I saw him before I saw Batman and I saw the Bat in a corner."  
"Was that the time you set fire to Batman?"

Jonathan snorted.

"Yeah, that time. I sprayed him, then set fire to him. Very amusing."  
"I'm sure. They're announcing who he is in a minute."  
"Yeah?"  
"You don't seem interested."  
"I have my inklings."  
"Really? Who are you betting on?"  
"We'll soon see, won't we?"  
"I think it's that cop guy who's always in the background of the police interviews."  
"Oh, no."  
"No?"  
"No, not at all."  
"Oh, stop holding back."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, and Harleen turned the television up. Harvey Dent was on-screen, speaking out about terrorism and how they didn't stand for it in Gotham. And then, out of the blue, he admitted to being Batman and offered himself to the cops.

"Oh," Harleen said, disappointed.

"Pssh. No way," Jonathan said, sitting back.

"No?"  
"I've seen him close up. That isn't the same chin. He's basically negotiating with terrorists. He's doing the thing he said he wouldn't do."  
"Oh, tell me who it is."  
"Nope."  
"I gave you coffee."  
"So did James. I'm not telling him either."

The camera panned in on Dent being taken from the podium.

"He's got blue eyes! Batman doesn't have blue eyes!"  
"Were you staring into them?"  
"I sprayed him in the face. I've seen his eyes. They aren't blue."  
"What colour are they?"  
"Like brown. Or dark. Or something."  
"That would stand up in court. 'Dark or something'."  
"I don't have to go to court, do I? No one would believe me because someone that isn't that man made me lose my mind."

Harleen couldn't help but laugh.

"At least people wouldn't be confused by your eyes."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"You have zombie eyes. Your eyes are practically 100% white."  
"Oh, thanks. I'll probably freak out when I look in a mirror now. Isn't your job to _stop_ my anxieties? Not give me more?"  
"Oh, c'mon. That isn't enough to spark you off. Why did you want to come and see me?"

Jonathan took a sip of coffee and sat back.

"I want a haircut."  
"Well, yes. I know that much. But I don't know what you want me to do about it. I'm not a hairdresser."  
"And a shave."  
"I like the beard."  
"Shave."  
"You're not allowed a razor. I asked."  
"Oh come on."  
"What do you want me to do? Cut it myself? Seriously? You'd regret it. Keep the beard."  
"I'm not going to _pull_ in here, am I? Why do I need it?"  
"Well they might transfer you to a proper prison if you make too much of an improvement. You don't want that."  
"Can I have a haircut?"  
"Yes, you can have a haircut. Is that the only reason? You said it was urgent."

Jonathan looked confused for a second.

"Oh, I thought of a thing."  
"A thing?"  
"A antipsychotic thing."  
"Okay?"  
"Give me a pen and some paper."  
"I'm not giving you a pen."  
"I'm not going to _stab_ you, for fucks sake Harleen. Do you have any cigarettes?"  
"Cigarettes? I didn't know you smoked."  
"Why does it matter? You smoke."  
"I know I do. How do you know I do?"  
"I remembered. Plus, you stink. Have you been smoking in here?"  
"I slept in here. The window was open."  
"Can I have a cigarette?"  
"Are you going to burn me with it?"  
"No."  
"Fine."

She dug around in her bag and lit two cigarettes, passing him one.

" _Thank_ you. Pen?"  
"Oh for…"

Harleen found the least dangerous looking pen she could and passed it over to him and he started to scrawl over the paper as she watched.

"And I was thinking we could have like a low-dose constant delivery system which would…" He trailed off as she looked confused. "What?"

"I can't do that. I can't even think of someone who could."

He threw the pen down, smudging and blotting the paper.

"For fucks sake Quinzel, I thought you wanted to help. _I_ could do it."  
"I can't even get you the funding for the antidote, never mind that."  
"What if I tell you who Batman is?"  
"You don't know who Batman is."  
"What if I tell you why Scarecrow is real?"

Harleen's brain clicked,

"Actually, speaking of that. You had a CAT scan, right?"  
"How do you know that?"  
"I did some digging."  
"You're not allowed to do that."  
"Are you gonna complain?"

She pulled out a sheet of paper and set it down. Jonathan looked thunderstruck.

"See, the interesting bits, as I'm sure you know are these abnormalities in the frontal lobe. It seems to bulge and split completely. Almost as if two have joined together. And that controls personality, planning, judgement… So no, I agree. I don't think we'll ever get rid of Scarecrow."

Jonathan was pulling a face that Harleen took both pleasure and concern from.

"Also, I looked at your mothers pregnancy records. She was having twins, wasn't she?"  
"Fuck you."  
"You won't talk to me about your past, Jonathan. I think you should. I think it would help you."  
"That isn't going to make the fucking hallucinations go away, Harley. They're going to be there forever. I think it's been in my system too long. The damage is done. I need to block what it's hitting."  
"What is it hitting?"  
"I can't fucking remember, can I? I need to test, but I'm not allowed."  
"Can you see why you're not allowed?"  
"Of course I can. Stop patronising me."  
"I'm not."  
"You fucking are."  
"Would you like a biscuit?"  
"No. I have plenty of biscuits in my cell."  
"Room."  
"Cell."  
"So who do you think Batman is."  
"I'm not telling you now."

"Jonathan, stop being petulant for something you know wouldn't happen anyway."  
"Well _you_ could do it."  
"Chemistry was never my strong point. I'd probably kill you."  
"Well fuck Bruce Wayne and get _him_ to do it."  
"Ew. He wouldn't fuck me. Plus I wouldn't fuck him. Plus do you not think it'd be suspicious if I hand him something with your scribble all over it 'oh by the way Bruce, can you get your labs on this. I made it. I promise.'"  
"He'd fuck anything that sat still long enough."  
"Ew."  
"You'd be in the papers!"  
"I don't want to be in the papers! Jesus, I have siblings and this is exactly what it was like being fifteen when my brothers wanted in on the football team. You're a shit manipulator. I don't know how you got so far with your villainous plans."  
"Batman ruined it."  
"Are you actually pouting?"

Jonathan was. Harley scowled and stood up, poking her head out of the door.

"James? Can you cut hair?"  
"That's just vindictive."

James entered the room, smiling.

"Sure, I've got kids. Why?"

Jonathan glowered, and Harleen smirked.

* * *

"Well actually, Jonathan _I_ think he's done a wonderful job. I think your hair looks _far_ better shorter."  
"You didn't go home again last night? You're wearing the same clothes again."  
"There was a car chase. A truck crashed, a helicopter crashed. There was no point even attempting to get over the city."  
"Oh."  
"Turns out Dent wasn't Batman."  
"I did say."  
"Mmm. Gordon isn't dead, either."  
"Wonderful."  
"The Joker got a lawyer and Dent in separate warehouses after he was arrested."  
"Who died?"  
"The lawyer."  
"Batman tried to save the lawyer?"  
"I dunno. They didn't say. Either way, he escaped again."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, stopping on the point of the ceiling which was dripping.

"What?"  
"Is that acid?"  
"No, I don't think so."  
"It's green though?"  
"No."  
"It isn't glowing?"  
"No."  
"Oh."

"Someone else knows Batman's identity. The Joker tried to kill him. He said he was going to blow up a hospital if he didn't die."  
"Did he?"  
"Yeah."  
"Where's Dent?"  
"I dunno. He was like half burnt or something."  
"Why are you telling me all of this?"  
"You were interested."  
"I thought I wasn't allowed to know?"  
"I didn't see why the information would hurt you. Plus, regular prison has ended up on a ferry. Which they're trying to blow up right now."  
"Oh. Why?"  
"If the civilian ship doesn't blow up the criminal ship or the other way around they're both going to die."  
"Oh. Okay."

"I think Batman is going to get the Joker."  
"Okay."  
"No one else will talk about him with me."  
"I'm not."  
"Why not?"  
"Because you won't make my compound."  
"Jonathan. I think I'm going to end up with this guy as a patient. I don't know how to treat someone like that."  
"I'm crazy. Why would I?"

Harleen sighed.

"At least tell me who you used to get to fix the pipes. It's nearly winter and if they freeze we're all fucked."

* * *

"You look tired, Dr Quinzel."  
"Yeah, well. So would you be."  
"Why?"  
"The Joker is here. I've had to start with the therapy. I don't even know what's wrong with him."  
"James said Batman killed Dent?"  
"Yeah, the cops are looking for him. He must've been really pissed that he took the credit for his rep, huh?"  
"Hmm."

Harleen rested her head against the desk.

"I'm so tired, Jonathan. This guy is exhausting."  
"So what do you think is wrong with him?"  
"Well, he doesn't hallucinate. He doesn't seem to have any psychosis. He's just… A psychopath."  
"Personality disorder?"  
"He is fixated on Batman."  
"I'd be careful with him."

There was a pause.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan. I haven't asked you anything about yourself. I've just been stuck with him all day and I'm exhausted."

Jonathan cocked his head, regarding Harleen curiously.

"I'm still hallucinating."  
"You seem clearer. Less agitated."  
"It's manageable."  
"You haven't needed any when required doses for a while?"  
"I'm trying to keep off the benzos."  
"Is there any point in increasing your antipsychotics?"  
"I'm already on three different ones. Without my formula or the antidote I don't believe there's much point."

Harleen sighed.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything else you'd like?"

Jonathan thought for a second, sitting back in his chair, his eyes glancing to the side where Harleen had begun to associate Scarecrow's to be.

"I need a bigger hoodie. It's starting to get cold and my old one doesn't fit."

Harleen glanced up from the table.

"Why doesn't it fit?"

Jonathan frowned.

"You've not read my notes?"  
"I-"  
"I'm on three antipsychotics. I've put on weight."  
"Oh. It isn't noticeable if you have."  
"I have."  
"I'll see what I can do. Is that all?"  
"I guess."

* * *

Five days later Jonathan was due to see Dr Quinzel again. James showed up at his door, his expression pinched and concerned.

"She's a bit busy, Jonno. Sorry."  
"Busy?"  
"That Joker guy's killed five people in the last two days. She's had to fill out a tonne of paperwork and he's just come around from the sedatives and has asked to see her. She sends her apologies."  
"Does she?"

James frowned.

"Actually, no. I don't even think she noticed. Sorry."  
"Great."  
"And to think, we used to worry about her behaviour around you."  
"I was just pushing my luck. I wouldn't have done anything."

He pulled a face at the thought.

"Well I don't think he is an honourable as you. Do you think you could have a word?"  
"With him or her?"  
"Her. He's not allowed in main."  
"I can try."  
"Good man. Hey, you might get outta here one day."  
"Would you trust me if I was?"  
"Not with a chemistry set, but for a beer? Sure. Always were my favourite boss."  
"Now you're just sucking up."

* * *

Dr Harleen Quinzel was wearing heels, a short skirt, and a blouse that showed far more than Jonathan wanted to see. And that wasn't mentioning the make-up.

When she tottered in, he scowled, rolled his eyes, and shuffled in his seat.

"Got a date?" he asked.

"Huh?"  
"I've never seen you wear heels before. And you've gone a little OTT on the eyeliner there. Plus, that lipstick just isn't for work. I would have sent you home to change."  
"Oh, well. Charming. Good job I didn't ask you for your opinion."

 _See_ that _is how you do manipulation, Johnny. You were shit._

"Hey, you were equally as shit."  
"Hm?"  
"What?"  
"Did you say something?"  
"No. How are you getting on with your new patient?"

Harley blushed bright red, and Jonathan's eyes narrowed. He softened his tone.

"Hey, Harley. You have to stop this right now. Whatever he's said, or done, is a lie. He's using you for his own gain."  
"Don't be stupid Jonathan. I knew when you were manipulating me, I'd know if he was."  
"Harley-"  
" _Doctor Quinzel_ please, Jonathan."

 _Pointless._

"I know."  
"Then use it."

She clicked her pen.

"I think we should up your meds."  
"Uh, no."  
"Yes. We'll get rid of the visions."  
"You're not sedating me. Why do you want to sedate me?"  
"See, this kind of paranoia is the reason why we need a significant increase, Jonathan. We've been taking it _far_ too slowly."  
"I'll just not take them."  
"Then we'll have to inject."

Jonathan stood up, and James came in.

"What?"  
"She wants to up my meds."  
"Why?"

They exchanged a look.

"I'm gonna request a second opinion, Dr Quinzel. Jonathan's very stable. I can't see your logic."  
"Oh, what would _you_ know?"  
"More than you, apparently."  
"I won't take that. I'm not done, Jonathan. Sit back down."  
"I'm done."

James unlocked Jonathan's cuffs.

"C'mon Jonno. Let's get you back to your room."

* * *

The next night all hell broke loose. An explosion blew out half of the asylum. The Joker was walking through the hallways, Dr Harleen Quinzel on his arm, killing anyone he encountered. His laugh was echoing through the building.

Jonathan was digging James out from under the bricks that had fallen on him. When he pulled the final slab away, he was confronted with blood. James was crushed beyond recognition. He sat for a few seconds, and stared, and then the bricks started to move. The walls were writhing, things were flashing and flying towards him.

 _Jonathan, it's okay. I'm here._

He felt Scarecrow's arm on his, and turned to look, seeing the silhouette a little clearer than usual. He squeezed Scarecrow's hand as the cackling got louder, the sound of gunshots echoing in the halls, the screaming bursting into his brain and short circuiting the bits that were left.

 _We're going to have to jump. Can you do that?_

Jonathan looked down. The waves were a giant mouth. The rocks were leaning towards him like fangs, beckoning him to his death.

 _We'll die either way, Johnny. C'mon._

Jonathan choked back a sob, picked up his tablets, put them inside his pocket in a waterproof tub (not that that would help when he was dead, of course) and stood on the edge.

 _After three_. _One._

The racket down the corridor indicated the Joker was coming his way. He could hear heels clicking with him. Even the wind was screaming.

 _Two_. _Hold up, Johnny._

The door flung open, and Jonathan glanced behind him to see Harley's face drop just a little as the Joker raised his gun.

Together, Jonathan and Scarecrow mumbled "three!"

Then they both jumped.

* * *

 **a/n: _To clarify, this Scarecrow is a development of the idea I had in a previous story where he was an absorbed twin. I developed that a bit with the brain make up to explain how the consciousness fits by and why he doesn't leave/dampen with the drugs. I also see him as a kinda phantom-limb type figure to try and explain how Jonathan can semi-feel him and sense his presence when no one else can. Just a different take on it, really. I really enjoyed writing this._**

 ** _-fs_**


End file.
